


Embers

by Brilla



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26931040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brilla/pseuds/Brilla
Summary: Rey, having just experienced a devastating blow from the mirror vision in the cave, recluses to her hut to expel her sorrow in quiet. To her dismay, her Force bond with Kylo Ren opens just as she's as her lowest point. Except, this time, Luke doesn't interrupt.My take on what would've happened in this alternate timeline.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52





	Embers

The orange embers of the fire crackled, little sparks flying off the dying wood. She shivered, partially from the cold, partially from something else, her arms hugged to her chest like she was cradling a baby and it was dying in her arms. Under the warmth of the blanket, staring aimlessly into the fire, her mind reeled. 

The mirror had deceived her, had pulled the rug from under her feet. 

_Herself._

__

That’d been all she’d seen. What was she supposed to interpret from that? Then again, what had she expected from an object of the darkside?

_Speaking of the darkside…_

__

She felt that familiar crowding sound around her ears, yet it unfazed her as it subsumed into a fine point and shot off, Kylo Ren taking its place. She didn’t look up. 

He seemed almost hesitant, “Rey.”

That made her gaze tread cautiously upwards to him. Had he said her name before? She couldn’t recall, but she did know that it sounded nice on his tongue. He stood, his forehead crumpled, and his lips sealed, gazing over her with what seemed to be concern.

_Oh, nice of him, for caring. A good mark up for the patricidal maniac._

But, she was too distraught, too mad, too hurt to truly give a shit, jagged ice pricking from her insides. She couldn’t really deny either that it was just nice to have someone near, to not be alone, physically at least, even if it was him of all people. 

He sunk to the seat opposite, the one that had just appeared out of thin air, “What happened?”

She scoffed, tears swelling in her eyes, “Why would you care?”

“Good question.”

_Sarcasm, of all times for that._

__

But, to her dismay, she chuckled, snorting out of nose, maybe out of the ridiculousness of the idea of a Jedi-in-training confiding in the very person who wanted her kind dead. Or maybe out of the absurdity of a low life scavenger – as he had thought of her – having a Force bond with the Master of the Knights of Ren.

“I was simply asking.”

_That would’ve been nice if he’d asked before he’d kidnapped her, of course then she would’ve said no, running and screaming into the hills while she was at it._

She swallowed, “You really want to know?”

He gave a curt nod. She took a deep breath. And then she told him, of the mirror, of the cave, of the terror she’d felt in that moment, far more of it than she’d expected.

“I suppose I was just trying to do what you told me to do, kill the past and whatnot. I’ll have you know, it failed, miserably,” her eyes darted between each dancing flame, “I should’ve felt trapped or panicked, but I didn’t. I knew, I thought, that at the end it would show me what I came to see.”

But it hadn’t, had it? Not what she wanted, not what she’d so desperately desired for so long. It’d lied to her.

“I thought I’d find answers here. I was wrong,” she let out a shaky breath, “I’ve never felt so alone.”

She hadn’t on Jakku, where the days blended together into one steaming pile so that she could barely dissect them from one another. She’d not only had become so used to the loneliness, but drunk on it, succumbed to its claws. She’d learned to be content with it, yet fed the strands of ambition that still remained within her the hope that her parents might return.

But that was all before Finn, and Chewie, and everything else that’d happened in barely a week, more than that had happened in a whole decade. It’d knocked her off her feet, before all coming to a grinding halt, here, on this island. And it was pouring out of her, these pent up feelings, in what she tried to release in a controlled manner, but she feared it might all just leak out of her, so that she was completely vulnerable to him. A bad idea. Truly, the worst of them.

“You’re not alone.”

Her eyes snapped up to him, his expression passive, but something had changed about it. Vulnerability. That was it, the layers of Kylo Ren shed to what she thought was Ben Solo speaking to her. She hoped.

“Neither are you.”

They were just two lonely people, weren’t they? Joined from stars away, consoling each other, albeit awkwardly, in the dead of night. She wasn’t sure what to think of it.

“It isn’t too late.”

She uncurled her fingers from her side, some invisible force pulling on her hand, and outstretching it across the fire. She reached out her palm, offering it to him. 

_What are you doing?_

__

He pulled off his glove, his eyes softened and his lips jutted out, the leather ridden to reveal a large hand, clunky fingers. His came to meet hers midway, their fingers brushing against each other.

Something unfurled in her mind, a vision smacking in her in the face, and sprouting before her eyes. It was blinding, vague, hard to recall entirely from the sheer intensity of it, but she understood its meaning. It almost startled her, what it was trying to tell her.

_Ben Solo will turn._

__

She jolted back into her body and, once again, she was a girl holding her hand out to the boy sitting opposite her, the sparks of the fire drifting upwards between them. They grasped hands, his encasing hers. She gently tugged, falling onto her knees, and he with her. She didn’t know entirely what she was doing, but she did know it felt right.

She eyed his scar, bisecting his face, and she felt a sudden guilt wash over her. He seemed to sense it.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt. I’m not angry about it.”

She hesitated, but her hand came up to trace her index against the line marking his face. He shivered as she made contact, as she cupped his cheek.

_What are you doing?_

__

“You’re conflicted.”

She could sense it, now more so than she could do so before, his signature a wild mess of dark and light, of pain and loss. He didn’t answer, keeping silent, but leaning into the touch, letting her hand fully splay out against his jaw.

“I can’t turn, Rey.”

She leaned in a little closer, lowering her volume to barely a whisper, “There’s no hurt in trying.”

The words lingered for a solid moment, and for a little while she feared something was wrong. Then, her mouth was subsumed by warm lips, cautious lips, butterflies kicking up in her stomach. She almost collapsed, her knees and legs turning to jelly, but she kept herself upright, her hand freeing itself from his grasp and placed against his chest. They pulled apart, preceding a silent moment where they just engaged in staring at each other, entirely startled by the enterprise.

“Fucking hell.”

To all her dismay, to all her disconcertion, and to the Force and heavens above, Ben Solo laughed, or at least his face split into a smile, his eyes closing as he was caught midway in the rapture of his own joy. Rey didn’t think there was a more glorious sight in the entirety of the universe.

He opened them again, and he just looked so tender, the remnants of a smile still dancing on his lips, and she was lost in it. He grasped her face and kissed her again, soft and slow, and she hook her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, drinking her fill before anyone could cut them short.

_What are you doing?_

__

_What is this?_

__

She didn’t know. They broke away and she nested her nose in the crevice of his neck, against the column of his throat, looping her arms around his torso, and feeding on the warmth radiating from his body against the cold of the night. She could smell his aftershave against his skin, a subtle, light tang.

“Rey,” he whispered into the shell of her ear.

A million questions lay on her tongue, many she knew she wouldn’t get answers to in a long while, but she let them rest, just for the moment.

“Thank you, for listening to me,” she muttered into the apex of his chest.

He stiffened a little, almost more startled by those words than he had been by the kiss. Maybe she was giving him too much credit, but she didn’t particularly care.

“Your welcome.”

His arms tightened a little around her waist, pulling her a little closer into him.

“I’m a little uncomfortable. Do you want to sit on the bed?”

He looked at her for a silent moment, then nodded. They got up, and their hands encased, they seated themselves on the edge of her cot, practically the same texture as a wooden board. She leaned against his side, watching out through the hole in the hut wall that was supposed to act as a window, the stars and galaxy’s spread thin across the black canvas.

He looked at her curiously for a moment, his features passive, “Your hair.”

She arched an eyebrow, “What about my hair?”

“Nothing. It’s just long.”

“Oh.”

“It looks nice.”

Kylo Ren complimenting her – that was stranger than the kiss.

“Thank you,” she said, somewhat amused.

He kissed her forehead, chastely, muttering against her skin, “Isn’t there a towel wherever you’re held up with Skywalker? You’re completely wet.”

“We’re kind of low on them.”

He looked somewhat sceptical, “Alright then.”

His head dipped towards her, his immense height causing him to duck a little awkwardly to kiss her in an appropriate way. But, it hardly mattered, too caught in the how tingles ran up and down her limbs, her palm brushing against her cheek, and how her heart thundered in her chest, her breath leaving her body.

She’d imagined being kissed, the idea of it ever being romantic dimming as she got older. She’d seen too many young men and women, robbed of their decency, sometimes willingly but rarely, behind canteens and in open tents, often in broad daylight, to view any idea of intimacy as romantic. Sometimes, occasionally, a trader, who those on Jakku would consider attractive, would pass through, he or she stirring thoughts her in that were more provocative than she was used to. She would barricade herself in her little AT-AT and touch herself, explore mysterious parts of herself that she barely knew, but the awe of it rarely lasted, and she would wake up again to climb another dune, another starship.

Romantic kisses and being swept off her feet were out of a picture for a scavenger like her. But this, the obstinate way his nose almost bumped into hers, the unsure but wanting manner he kissed her, was far more intimate and powerful than any dramatic declaration of love or a million bundles of flowers. Strangely.

He was kissing her harder, slowly but with an evident desire that she knew could lead places. Places she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to go to this on night at least.

She pulled back a little, “Can we not, uhm, like, let’s not…?”

Her cheeks burned. He furrowed his brow.

“…do anything, uh, further?” 

Realisation spread across his face. 

“Oh. No, I didn’t intend to…” he trailed off, looking awkwardly to the wall, his eyes darting back to her, “Can I still kiss you?”

She smiled, grabbing onto his collar with a sudden force, and pulling his head down to hers, their mouths colliding in a welcome embrace.

Force, if Luke comes in here now.

He already didn’t trust her entirely, and now she was kissing his evil nephew. Her reputation would be completely and utterly soured.

She’d lost track of where they were, consumed by her thoughts, his cheeks having pressed warily against hers, his mouth being dragged down to press against her neck, sucking nimbly. She cupped the back of his head, her fingers clinging onto his hair, grasping handfuls of it, seeming to drive him madder.

“Fuck,” he swore, muttered against her skin, hot breath sending pinpricks.  
The pulse of the fire dimmed, the embers morphing to ashes. Yet, she felt far from cold, the opposite of uncertain in the dark. His hands seemed antsy to drift down from her waist, attacking her neck with ferocious lips.

“Can I…”

“Touch?”

“Yes,” he whispered coldly, like releasing an urgent breath.

She took a steadying breath, “Go on.”

She spoke like she was telling a story, and maybe she was, how the last of the Jedi and the Jedi killer came together and came undone. Would it be a tragedy or a fairy-tale?  
His hand slipped off her waist, to her behind, and sneaked under her shirt. A cold hand pressed over her breast band as he came to kiss her again, longing on his tongue.

To her alarm, she felt the bond closing between them, their connection falling to dust. He seemed to realise it to, receding his greedy hands and hungry mouth, his lips parted to expel a million words.

In finality, he sealed his lips and, with a new sense of certainty, he grasped her hand and kissed her wrist.

“I’ll be back,” he said, in the midst of kissing her, “I promise.”

Before she could say anything, he’d disappeared, leaving her alone on the bed, the term of endearment still spinning in her head.

Bloody hell.

Her thumb came up to brush against her lips, the kiss still burned to her lips. Mother of fucking Force, this could only end in disaster.

She clutched her hand to her chest, the remnants of her pacing heart slowing down to a mellow tempo. She found she didn’t regret it, though.  
Not one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Tag yourself, I'm Ben awkwardly complimenting Rey and saying, "yOu'Re VeRy wEt."


End file.
